


Baby's First Diplomatic Treaty (and other firsts for the books)

by orphan_account



Series: Spirk Family [2]
Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Enterprise Family, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kid Fic, M/M, allergic reactions, baby's firsts, parent spirk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-17
Updated: 2018-04-17
Packaged: 2019-04-24 09:10:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14352408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Spock gathered her close.  “I fear in due time, she will be wearing insignia, and flying into unknown dangers.”  He pushed his nose into her curls and breathed her in.  Jim felt a pulse of safety and security in their bond.  “For now, I would prefer keeping these incidents as few and far between as we can manage.”“Yeah.  No more trips to the transporter room,” Jim agreed.  He reached out and poked under her arm, grinning wide at the sound of her giggle.  “Got it, Ladybug?  Let’s keep your firsts to the stuff in our baby books.”Jim and Spock's adventures in child-rearing aboard the Starship Enterprise.  Sequel to Spring Blossom.





	Baby's First Diplomatic Treaty (and other firsts for the books)

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first in a handful of one-shot sequels I planned to do as a sequel to Spring Blossom. Not all will be baby-centric, and there is a Pon Farr one in the works :)

The doors to the bridge, no matter how frantic the person wishing to enter, would no do more than the gentle slide open. However, Spock felt the sudden rush of near-hysteria and was on his feet. One, due to the bond shared between himself and his Captain, and two, because permission to enter had not been requested, which meant the only way the doors would have opened on Gamma shift was from the Captain’s override.

Turning, Spock saw Jim rushing onto the bridge with Ania clutched tightly against his chest, his pink cheeks deep red with a flush, his hair in disarray. Spock immediately began inspecting their familial bond for the source of panic, but found nothing. He had, as he always did when he was on shift and Jim was with their daughter, been monitoring it thus and nothing had seemed amiss.

The hysteria was most unsettling, and he clasped his hands tightly behind his back to keep from ripping Ania from Jim’s grasp.

“Spock,” Jim said, breathless as he came to a halt in front of his XO. “Spock she…you have to…” Jim swiped his free hand along the edge of his forehead as he turned the eight month old in his arms so she was facing outward, his hand firmly holding her tight. “She said it.”

Spock blinked. “Clarify.”

Instead of panic, Spock felt a rush of _joy_ , and he watched as Jim turned Ania slightly, and when he had her attention, he pointed to Spock. “Okay baby, who’s that? Who’s that right there?”

“Jim, this is hardly,” Spock began, but fell instantly silent—as did the rest of the bridge—when the small voice which to this point had only emitted babbling, spoke.

“S’ehk.”

Spock felt as though his heart was threatening to beat out of his ribs as Jim bounced her with a huge, happy grin. “That’s right, baby. That’s right, my little genius. “Sa’mekh. Who is that?” he asked again, pointing once more.

“S’ehk!” she said a little more enthusiastically this time, then she wriggled in Jim’s grasp and made grabby hands at Spock.

Though Ania should be nowhere near the bridge while they were on duty, Spock could do little else except take his daughter into his arms. As unprofessional as it was, he couldn’t help but bury his nose in her curls and breathe in the baby-soft scent of her, and of Jim, and of home. She giggled and grabbed at his face until he removed one of her hands, pressing a kiss to her tightly curled fist.

“She’s a genius,” Jim declared, reaching out to poke her under the chin which always elicited a laugh. Spock, his sense of duty to the ship pressing, tried to suppress the illogical rush of joy he felt at the sound of her sweet giggles.

“I hardly think that a normal milestone of recognizing and even naming one’s parents qualifies genius,” Spock said mildly, if only to cover up his desire to irrationally agree with his husband.

Jim reached out, covering her ears, making her laugh again even as he glowered at Spock. “She’s like a sponge! If you tell her she’s not a genius she’ll believe you! She can sense those disbelieving emotions!”

Spock sighed, stepping out of Jim’s range and shifting Ania so she was propped up on his shoulder where she had full view of a smiling Nyota at the communications station. “She is hardly capable of understanding or taking such complex statements to heart. I have every reason to believe she will succeed in life, considering her unique genetics and her upbringing. But I must disagree that her use of sa’mekh is in anyway indicative of above average intelligence.”

Ania chose that moment to punctuate Spock’s statement by turning her head, patting him on the cheek and saying softly, “S’ehk.”

Spock swallowed against a tightness in his throat, closing his eyes a fraction long enough for the crew to notice, and tried not to feel a surge of frustration that this small creature could reduce him to such an illogical shell of himself. Or a frustration at how much he enjoyed the sensation at all. “Jim, it is unwise to have her on the bridge, even if we are in non-hostile space.” Before Jim’s mouth could fall open with an emotional defense of why Spock needed to hear Ania’s newest accomplishment for himself, he said, “Nevertheless, I appreciate and will treasure this moment.”

Jim stepped in close and leaned in to kiss Ania’s round cheek. “It’s her first word.”

“I believe you declared her first word to be alysm last week as she was babbling at her stuffed sehlat,” Spock said, quirking a brow as Jim took Ania back into his arms.

“It’s a word!” Jim defended. “It means boredom when you’re sick. I looked it up.”

“As she appeared to be neither bored nor ill, I believe it was just babble.” Spock reached out and let one of her curls twist around his finger before pulling away. “However I will concede this seems to have direct meaning to her, so I accept your amendment to her baby log.”

Jim grinned at him, then held out two fingers. Spock allowed the ozh’esta, a brush of his fingers against Jim’s before stepping back toward the captain’s chair. “I shall see you both in three point seven hours.”

Jim nodded, and took Ania’s hand to imitate a farewell wave to the crew. Spock sighed internally at the illogical cooing at his child, though a surge of pride welled in him at well liked and accepted his child was. He ignored the sappy smiles after Jim and Ania left the bridge and turned to Sulu. “Steady as she goes.”

Sulu nodded. “Aye…Commander Sa’mekh,” he said, and Spock pinched the bridge of his nose at the sound of soft laughter from those he considered his family.

~*~ 

Though people had been writing about child-rearing for centuries, and though Spock and Jim had acquired a database of so many reference books for both human and Betazoid children—enough they had to use a separate server so as not to overload any of the ship’s—each author seemed so intensely divided from the others that it left Spock and Jim both overwhelmed and convinced every path they chose to take in raising Ania would lead to disaster.

So far the child was still alive, however, happy as she could be on a starship and being constantly bombarded with attention by the crew. So far they had not flown into hostile space, and most of the on-world missions had gone with only mild disruptions.

They started to ease into a sort of calm when it came to her, and at eight months started trying new solids, which was why they were in the mess hall with her strapped into the baby chair at the edge of the table. So far she’d shown more affinity to Vulcan cuisine—preferring vegetarian cuisine over Terran meats—something Spock was absolutely _not_ gloating about. He, himself, recalled that his favorite soup had been an acquired taste—his mother had once informed him he was only interested after seeing his father insist upon it once a week, and though he made the most ridiculous faces after every spoonful, Spock had desired to be like his father so much, he’d eventually grown to love it. Bearing that in mind, Spock decided that afternoon would be a good time to introduce Ania to the flavor, so that it would be less of a challenge for her to enjoy it with him later.

“Here we go,” Spock said, his voice not quite as pitched as Jim’s was when they spoke to the infant, though not anything like he spoke to adults, either.

Ania had a thick-handled, plastic spoon gripped in one fist, and she grinned up at him, tapping it on the tray lightly. “Sa’meh.”

“Sa’mekh,” Spock corrected, and set the bowl on the table, inserting one finger to test the internal temperature of the liquid. “Your mispronunciation is in line with your development.”

“Meh! Meh!” She turned her head and pointed her finger of the hand not holding the spoon, across the room where Jim was leaning against the wall talking animatedly to Pavel. “Dah! Dah-dah-dah-dah.”

“That is your dad, yes,” Spock affirmed with a nod of his head. He considered letting her have the bowl herself, seeing as she was already showing interest in eating utensils, however he predicted that she would ingest less than four percent of the nutrition the Plomeek would allow before it was spilled and unusable for consumption. He took his own spoon instead and dipped it into the broth. He held it to her lips, and her nose wrinkled for four point six seconds before she opened and allowed him to push the bite against her tongue.

She swallowed, then huffed and pushed his hand away, shaking her head.

“It is an acquired taste,” Spock explained. He took a moment to eat off his own plate before offering her a second bite.

She accepted, swallowed, then shook her head again.

With a sigh, Spock speared a bit of the over-cooked squash which turned to mush on his fork, and allowed her to nibble that. His PADD beeped, and he absently looked over while offering her another bite of the soup. He was vaguely aware her lips were pressed together to disallow the spoon to provide another helping of the soup, but he held it there casually, allowing her to make the choice herself as he read the messages.

It was only after he heard a gasp, and his name being called that he looked over, and for a moment his brain struggled to register what he was seeing. Ania’s eyes were wide, and her cheeks more round, and her lips twice the size they were usually.

Allergic reaction, possible anaphylactic shock, treatment necessary in forty-three point six seconds to avoid further danger or complications.

Spock rose, but Jim had already shouted for Bones who was rushing over with a hypo prepared. He adjusted it to her weight, then inserted it into her neck and depressed the medication. 

There was flurry of movement as Jim took Spock’s hand and Bones swept Ania into his arms, and they rushed to medbay. Spock felt a rush of guilt through every limb, and it settled like a hot stone in the pit of his stomach. His negligence nearly injured their daughter.

“It looks like she’s allergic to Plomeek,” Bones said, reading her scans. “And most of the root vegetables native to Vulcan. That’s…actually really common in Betazoid children according to my file here.”

Jim blinked when both Dr. McCoy and Spock looked at him, and he threw up both hands in defense. “Hey, woah! First of all, she’s not biologically mine so it’s not like I can pass on my allergies to her. This is so not my fault!”

“I should have been aware of such risks, I take full responsibility and I shall…” Spock began, but quieted when Jim laid a hand on his wrist.

“Don’t. Okay? Look, my mom found out I was allergic to peanuts on a flight across the country. Like on a commercial flight without a medical officer on board. She wasn’t even feeding me peanuts, either. Some peanut oil got onto my crackers and my entire face swelled up and I almost died.” Spock was not comforted, even if Jim pushed as much soothing care as he could through their bond link. “But I didn’t die, and neither did Ania. We were going to figure it out eventually.”

“I’ll print you a list, and you can stop self-flagellating at any time. You didn’t know. Hell, none of us did, and I’ve been doing her bloodwork since we’ve been on this ship.” 

It was unlike the doctor to attempt to soothe his frayed nerves, so Spock took it for what it was, and merely picked up Ania, gathering her to his chest. She was lethargic from the medication, which did not put Spock at ease, but she immediately recognized his touch and snuggled into his arms much like she would do when she was newborn. 

“Mek,” she murmured.

Spock ran a finger down her cheek and her eyes fluttered, then closed. When he looked up again, Dr. McCoy was holding up a stack of papers, the cover a computer-generated certificate which read, **Baby’s First Anaphylactic shock**

Spock’s eyes narrowed. “Your sense of humor is lacking.”

Jim was hiding a giggle behind his hand, however, as he took the papers from the doctor. “I mean, not to try and put a positive spin on this, but I have to say, if anything proves she was meant to be mine, a random trip to sickbay for allergies has to be it.”

Try as he might, Spock found he could not, entirely, disagree.

~*~ 

The books prepared them for a host of firsts when it came to child-rearing. Rolling over for the first time, the first time the baby sleeps through the night, first solids, first time sitting up, first word. First teeth had been a lesson in patience for both parents, and most of the ship as Ania did not take to pain well, and feeling the pulsing frustrated, exhausted emotions from her parents only made the misery worse to the point she was only consoled when taken down to engineering to listen to the soothing, white-noise hum of the warp engines.

For those two months before two tiny little goblin teeth poked out from her bottom gums, at any given hour, either Spock or Jim could be found in Scotty’s chair at the console with Ania lying on their chests, the dads in some state of half-asleep as they absently rocked her back and forth.

The moment those little teeth made an appearance, she started sleeping again, and everything was fine. The next succession of teeth came rapid fire until she had eight pearly-whites, four on the top, four on the bottom, and cause far less misery than the start of the teething adventure.

But what the books did not prepare them for was raising a child on a starship. No matter what book they picked up, nothing could prepare them for baby’s first off-world diplomacy act, which Jim swore left him and Spock with lingering mild trauma and separation anxiety when all was said and done.

Though they could be careful about who left the Enterprise when orbiting new planets, and who would take diplomacy meetings, and who they let beam aboard, Jim and Spock were well aware that from time to time, they would cross paths of a species with a level of technology that surpassed their own, and made their idea of control nothing more than Child’s Play. In fact, Jim had frequent nightmares about crossing paths with others like the Platonians again, and the feeling of utter helplessness when it came to protecting his child.

Luckily baby’s first diplomatic mission was not that critical. They were a humanoid race descended—much like the Vulcans—from their feline ancestors. Unlike the Vulcans, they retained a feline appearance much like the Caitins, who were a direct relative and whose planet orbited a nearby star. The Dulesans had only just reached warp capability, and had been working closely with the USS London in their diplomatic efforts to join the Federation. The efforts had been going poorly, however, and the USS London had been dismissed from Dulesan airspace and all attempts at treaty had been suspended. Humans were welcome in airspace only to deliver the agreed upon items Starfleet had promised in exchange for a few Dulesan seeds. The threat of disobeying that order was execution from the Dulesan counsel, something Starfleet could not legally step in to prevent.

The Enterprise was only meant to leave supplies for them, and collect a few fauna samples for Sulu’s lab. No person was to be beamed down or beamed aboard, and it was only the fact that Ania had begun crawling at a pace her parents were unused to just yet, and that she was small enough to fit just behind the boxes heading down that no one noticed right away. They weren’t even supposed to be there, but she’d been fussy after her nap, and Jim had business to discuss with Scotty, and he figured setting her up on the floor with her kick-light gym and fluffy playmat would distract her enough so he could get the job done since Spock had been in the labs that afternoon with his science team. She’d quieted the moment she heard the thrumming of the engines, and Jim watched her play happily for a few minutes before wandering over to Scotty’s desk with the PADD he had his reports on.

It was quiet until the Ensign at the control panel said, “Oh shit,” really softly—knowing that a second later his Captain and the parent of said child was going to go postal when he found out what happened..

Jim, who had been engrossed with Scotty’s explanation of the reports, looked down to the little blanket where Ania had been playing, then looked up at the Ensign who was staring back with wide, terrified eyes.

“Do not tell me what I think you’re going to tell me,” Jim said, a slight tremble in his voice.

“I’m trying to get a lock on her, sir, but their shields and the ion storm are causing interference and I only have the coordinates for the supply boxes that…”

Jim wasn’t listening after that. He was on the transporter pad with his phaser out and a sharp look at Scotty. “Fucking call Spock down here now. Energize.”

The Ensign’s shaking hands quickly beamed his Captain down.

Jim landed near a stack of supply boxes and not a lifeform in sight. He was breaking huge rules being there, but then again this was his child and he didn’t even consider rules when it came to her safety. He ripped his comm out of his pocket. “Kirk to Enterprise. Spock? You’d better get your Vulcan ass down here…there’s not a single Dulesan in sight.” He was running now, toward what looked like the exit of the storage facility which led to somewhere outside and sunny. His comm crackled with interference. Communications were shut off, which was typical for the level of storm, but it also meant they might not be able to get another beam down until the storm passed which could be a while.

Jim broke into a run and came to a skidding halt at the mouth of a busy street. He had no idea where to go, who might have seen her, and he didn’t think to bring a translation device which meant he had no chance of understanding a single sound the Dulesans were making right then.

“Fuck mother fucking shit fuck.” He grabbed the sleeve of the nearest robe and began to pantomime. “My daughter, looks like me, brown skin,” he waved his arms around uselessly. “Human?”

The yellowed eyes narrowed and the Dulesan moved away with a slight growl.

“Fuck,” Jim groaned. Then he jumped ten feet in the air when a warm hand fell on his elbow and he turned to see his husband. Relief hit him like a punch to the gut as Spock passed over the translation button and he clipped it to his collar. It activated and the growling murmurs became casual Standard. “I could kiss you if I wasn’t in the middle of a goddamn panic attack.”

“The capital is there, and it is likely she was taken to the proper authorities after being found amongst the supplies. Nyota is attempting to contact their law enforcement, but the ion storm has cut off most communications and is estimated to last approximately twenty-eight Dulesan hours.”

Jim nodded, trying to let Spock’s outward calm influence his own. He linked their hands for a brief moment, then he matched Spock’s step as his bondmate led the way through the busy streets, toward a tall building which stretched high at the base of a jagged mountain.

It wasn’t long before a Dulesan officer in a yellow robe greeted them with an extended weapon that looked like a phaser, though Jim had feeling if it was one, it wasn’t set to stun. He knew exactly the rules they were breaking. But…it was his daughter. “Off-worlders. With me.”

“Please, listen,” Jim began, but Spock’s hand in his squeezed, and Jim knew that his Vulcan control would allow him to think more critically without his panic getting in the way.

They were immediately taken into a large, marble-white building and put in a cell behind a forcefield. The only consolation was they were together, though that possibly meant simply, that’s also how they would die. Jim took a breath and considered how he might plead for his daughter’s life, if they wouldn’t spare his.

“How long has it been?” Jim asked when it felt like eternity had passed.

“Two point six hours,” Spock said.

Jim swallowed thickly. Ania was an infant, and she’d beamed down on her own, and there was no telling where she was, or what she’d gotten into. “Can you…in the bond, is she…”

“She is alive, and I feel contentment and amusement from her. She is unharmed.” Spock reached over and touched Jim’s face gently with the tips of his fingers, drawing his gaze up. “We must practice patience and diplomacy if we are to see her and our ship again.”

“I know,” Jim said, and blew out a puff of air.

It felt like another eternity passed, but Spock assured him it was less than twenty minutes when a humanoid wearing very official looking robes appeared in front of their cell. With a complicated hand-gesture, the forcefield lifted and they stepped in.

Jim and Spock immediately rose, though didn’t move forward in an attempt to keep from appearing like a threat. “We have broken the off-worlder decree, we know,” Jim said, breathy and desperate. “But my daughter…”

“The Terran infant is yours?” The Dulesan cocked their head to the side, cat-yellow eyes narrowed. “She is…unlike you.”

“She’s adopted,” Jim said, hoping there was a word in their language for that. It appeared to be so, as the Dulesan hesitated, then nodded. “We uh…we adopted her.” He gestured between Spock and himself. “I’m the Captain of the Enterprise, the ship who brought you the med supplies? I was in the transporter room with her talking to my Chief Engineer and she…she’s just learning to crawl, and she got onto the transporter pad so quickly I…”

The Dulesan held up a hand and shook their head. “I have three young from my last litter, I am well aware how…sneaky they can be. And I am well aware what rules I might break in order to ensure their safety. She was discovered almost immediately and taken to the Prime Minister’s chambers. If you will follow me…”

Jim looked at Spock with some measure of relief, and just a little pulse of fear, before they hurried along after the diplomat. The walk was short, down a maze of hallways, passing several guards in uniform. They ascended a set of stairs, and were finally taken to wide, echoing chambers. In the center of the room were two chairs, and upon those two Dulesan’s. Jim recognized Tu’Sul, the Prime Minister he’d spoken with earlier that day before the supply delivery, and the other he assumed to be his wife, Me’Lahn—whose stomach was swollen and round with an impending birth, who also happened to be holding a giggling Ania close to her.

The diplomat led Jim and Spock to the foot of the step that led to the thrones, and the two of them bent a knee, bowing.

“James T. Kirk, Captain of the Enterprise, and his companion. The child is theirs.” The diplomat said, nodding and then stepping away.

The Prime Minister eyed them with care, then his lips quirked in a smile, making the whiskers on either side of his nose twitch. “She is a delightful child. She offers us…strange yet soothing warmth.”

Jim flushed, nodding. “Ah she’s…yes. That’s to say she’s…”

“Part of her genetics descended from an empath race. She is capable of producing base emotions that other lifeforms can feel such as sadness, fear, anger, and contentment,” Spock cut in. 

Ania looked up at the sound of her parents’ voices and her face broke in to a sunny smile. She raised her fist out to Spock and then opened and closed it several times. “Sek! Sek!”

Jim saw Spock’s arms tense and twitch with desire to reach out and take his daughter, but he restrained himself. Jim swallowed thickly. “We are truly sorry for the breech of conduct.”

The Prime Minister cocked his head as he looked over at Ania, and he smiled at her. “It is hardly fair of us to blame her for such a breech,” he said, and his wife chuckled, “and it is hardly fair of us to blame her parents for attempting to regain custody of her.”

Jim nodded. “I panicked. The ion storm has cut communications, but I didn’t even think…I just…”

“You acted as any parent protecting their young. Especially one as young as this,” his wife said. And then finally, _finally_ , rose and offered Ania out to Spock.

Jim felt the visceral relief from his bondmate as Spock gathered Ania to his chest. It was so strong it nearly knocked him to his knees, and he only just managed to stay upright.

“The storm has prevented you from returning to your ship. We would like to invite you to stay until it passes,” Tu’Sul said. “As our guests. We have very much enjoyed the company of the infant, and would like to know more.”

Startled, Jim nodded. “We would be honored. Thank you.”

Tu’Sul waved his hand, and ordered that dinner should be taken in the main hall.

Jim didn’t know what to expect, only that he and Spock had a precious few minutes with Ania alone where neither of them said a word, only held her close between them. With the relief and emotional drain from her parents, by the time they were called for the dinner, she had passed out on Spock’s shoulder.

An attendant offered to take her, but Spock assured them he was fine and had conducted ship business like this quiet often. They were taken to a long table, and a wide array of fruits, vegetables, and meats were laid out for them. Tu’Sul and Me’Lahn were seated across from them, and Jim was quick to copy their motions at the table—letting servants fill their plates.

“Are all humans like her?” Me’Lahn asked.

Jim glanced over at Ania’s sleeping face. “Ah. No, she’s not full human. She’s half Betazoid. I’m not sure you’ve been introduced to that race. They’re quite secretive and protective of their planet, though they do belong to the Federation.”

Tu’Sul’s forehead crinkled in what might be something like a Vulcan eyebrow lift. “We were not made aware. They are like her? Empathetic?”

Jim shrugged. “She’s only half, so she’s not as strong as she would be if both her parents had been. They are accomplished telepaths as well, though they don’t share gifts lightly.”

“That is…understandable,” Tu’Sul said. “Nevertheless, meeting her was…enlightening. I will be speaking with the counsel tomorrow, and we may reconsider treaty arrangements. Are there any like her in the Federation that might speak with us?”

Jim’s eyebrows flew up. “Ah…I’m not…I could certainly ask Starfleet if they have any Betazoids in their employ that can take over negotiations.”

“We have not had the best contact with humans, but in meeting the pair of you,” Me’Lahn said, giving them a careful look, “and the care you show for your young—the disregard for your own lives to protect her—it has given us second thought.”

Jim flushed and glanced at Spock who was stoic as ever, though his eyes were soft as he looked at them. “Thank you.”

They both smiled, and the conversation turned toward other things.

The storm passed by the next day, and there was obvious relief when Jim and Spock stepped off the transporter pad with Ania held tight in Jim’s arms. Their sleep had been fitful, and Jim knew he wasn’t going to feel safe again until they were out of orbit and away from any potential danger.

But the mission had been successful in more ways than one, and when Gamma shift came around, he and Spock were both relieved and took their meal in their quarters as Ania lay on the floor, playing with her stuffed Sehlat.

“Who knew,” Jim mused, a hand over his full belly.

Spock, who was lounging beside him in a rare moment of bodily ease, glanced over at Jim. He reached for his mate’s hand, pressing a human kiss to the tips of his fingers. “Many lifeforms know many things, ashaya. Would you clarify?”

Jim chuckled. “Just…who knew a hostile race who was on the brink of potential conflict with the Federation could be moved by our girl.”

“She is…remarkable in her nature, and remarkable in her life,” Spock agreed, which was the closest he’d ever get to Jim’s claim of her genius and infant diplomacy skills.

“Baby’s first diplomatic mission and Federation Treaty. Too bad we couldn’t get her to sign.”

Spock sighed, put upon, and he squeezed Jim’s hand before releasing it in favor of leaning forward and gesturing that Ania crawl to him. Much like a terran puppy, she shoved the foot of her stuffed sehlat into her mouth, then crawled with a too-fast pace right to her sa’mekh’s arms.

Spock gathered her close. “I fear in due time, she will be wearing insignia, and flying into unknown dangers.” He pushed his nose into her curls and breathed her in. Jim felt a pulse of safety and security in their bond. “For now, I would prefer keeping these incidents as few and far between as we can manage.”

“Yeah. No more trips to the transporter room,” Jim agreed. He reached out and poked under her arm, grinning wide at the sound of her giggle. “Got it, Ladybug? Let’s keep your firsts to the stuff in our baby books.”

Ania pointed at him. “Dah!”

“Good. Agreed. Let’s shake on it.” He held out his hand, and she slapped it with her palm. “Good enough,” Jim said. “Now let’s get to bed. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

“In spite of the differences between our biology, ashaya,” Spock said as he pushed himself up with Ania draped on his shoulder, “this once, I can agree with you.”


End file.
